


A Little Vandalism Goes a Long Way

by mandaree1



Series: Teen!Delinquent AU [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper and Mabel don't know where they fit in, Gen, Running away from home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6505786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper and Mabel run away from home. It's not their fault they can't get along with the other kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're more scared of being apart than we are of dying in the streets.

When two hall monitors come into his gym class to escort Dipper to the office, he goes with the smirk of someone who's won, when really that couldn't be farther from the truth. He stays smug all through the hallways, like it was his idea to stroll around in his ugly uniform shorts and t-shirt, and he shows no sign of guilt as they seat him in one of the receptionist chairs. He taps a leg covered in hair, an old scar peeking out under his left knee. If he's embarrassed by his lack of dress- which he is, mildly- he doesn't show it.

All pretense of this fades, along with his grin, when his sister steps into the office.

Dipper's going to be blunt with you all here, and he's well aware that this will come across as conceited; the others don't scare him. He can take out any of his classmates; disarm any forty-something who doesn't have any real training; and the principal... he's nice. But his job requires _a lot_ of sitting and writing out paperwork. He's got Manotaur hunting skills and boxing training from Stan and don't even get him started on _Ford_ \- to back him up.

To sum it all up, if there is ever a day Dipper is snuck up on and stabbed in the back, he fully expects to see his sister on the other end of the blade when he turns. Not that any stabbing will happen, but you see his point.

Granted, in a white blouse covered in animal stickers and a pair of hot pink shorts, he can understand the ignorance of others. But there's a dark fire in her eyes, framed by her bobbed hair and nose piercing. The very edge of one of her tattoos poked out under her shirt- the burn Stan carried, as it was the longer one of the two, and the only blue one- but otherwise she looked like the everyday teenager.

...Well, perhaps a _bit_ more than average. Tall, broad-shouldered, strong, brave; maybe it was just him being a good brother, but he couldn't see a reason _not_ to fall head over heels for his sister. Maybe that was just because he had a type. Still.

Mabel is deceptively calm as she listens to the receptionist ramble. Dipper counts the splotches of paint on her shirt and cheeks before she finally turns to him.

He can't help himself; "It wasn't me, I swear."

" _Dipper_." She hisses, hands balled in front of her. "That was my art class you interrupted, man. Art! It's the one class I'm _good_ at, and the one I love most!"

"I'm not kidding, lady Mabes. Haven't done a thing."

She examines his face to judge his honesty, slowly shaking her head. "Well, _I_ didn't do it."

"I know." Dipper replies grimly. "You're a _way_ better artist than that quack. And you wouldn't have signed it with our names."

"You're darn right." She says, calming down. The logic of the situations slowly sinks in; that they would never try anything this stupid, not to mention Dipper is a terrible artist. "So, uh... what're the chances of this getting us expelled?"

"With our record? Pretty dang high."

* * *

 

"To their credit, they at least knew it wasn't yours." Dipper says, between sips of a milkshake.

You ever see one of those places that is the _definition_ of 80s' greasy spoon? Jukebox, checkered tile, cheesy red plush cushions, and milkshakes with every burger? That's it. That's where they are. Of course, the owner is out of touch with life, as is to be expected; in his defense, he's an anti-social ice monster with a speech impediment, but not a lot of people know that.

"Of course they did." She returned primly. "My art style is unique. Like no other. Pass the sugar."

He does so, ignoring the screech of glass as the milkshake travels across the table on foot. Er, bottom. Glass. You get it. "They fought for us and everything. I half expected them to yank out your sketchbook."

"Would've gotten us in more trouble if they saw my other illegal babies and recognized them." She took a surly swig. "Besides, didn't stop us from getting expelled."

Dipper tugs on his hat awkwardly. "This is true."

"That was our third school, Dip. Our third strike."

"Also true."

"They're at the end of their ropes, Dip."

"You're not wrong."

Her voice became increasingly shrill. "They're splitting us up, _Dip_!"

His fingers clenched around the corners of the table. He found he couldn't look at her. "I know."

Maybe they're overthinking this. Dipper trusts his sister. He knows she won't do anything too crazy- by which he means demon related-, and he knows she extends the same trust to him. But, after the last time...

Let's just say Pines twins have a bad habit of falling apart on their own, and leave it at that.

Mabel presses her head into her hand, frowning thoughtfully. "Have you ever wanted to say something super cliche?"

"That depends on the day and the cliche." Dipper muses, idly tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. "Which cliche are we talking about, exactly?"

"We're not happy here." She says bluntly. "So, we should leave."

"Ah. Running away from home." Dipper won't deny that the idea is appealing.

"Gravity Falls isn't _that_ far from here. Only a state away."

"And how do we get there? We'd have to leave the car."

"We have legs, and great uncle Ford gave us survival training."

As did Manly Dan. And Wendy. And life.

"In all seriousness, though. What would our parents say?"

Mabel shrugs, stirring their shake with the straw. She watches the liquid slosh. "Let's be honest with ourselves; they're expecting it by now."

Dipper doesn't deny it. Instead, encouraged by those words, he helps feed into the idea. "We can't stay at the Shack, but we can always find a shed or something somewhere."

"Who needs a diploma, anyway?" His sister agrees, finally passing back the drink. "Stan gets along just fine without it."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far." He answers hastily. That was a different generation, after all. "We can take some online classes."

Loud, boisterous laughter cuts them off. Dipper leans farther across the table; Mabel seconds the notion. He forgets this place is public, sometimes.

"Can you see what he's saying?" Mabel asks, because he knows how to read lips. He also knows sign language, although not well enough to use it on the day-to-day.

"He's bragging." He answers immediately.

"That was fast." Her eyes narrow. The fire has turned into a blaze. "You didn't even look at him."

Dipper shrugs. "I glanced around a bit earlier."

"And what's he bragging about, exactly, Dip-Dop?"

The clench to her jaw tells him she's already hazarded a guess. "He seems to find out situation amusing. I don't know if he _actually_ set us up, though. He's pretty open about it. Bad idea if you don't wanna get caught."

The clench in her jaw twitches. "You're facing their table. How many guys?"

"Three." Child's play.

Mabel slides out of her booth, fists tightened into balls. "I'll be right back."

Dipper fiddles with the straw nonchalantly. "Take your time. It's a long walk to Gravity Falls."


	2. Our home is far, but we're willing to walk the walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel are willing to go as far as it takes, with or without a shower and meal. They're not all that picky.

Dipper fluffs a pillow made out of a trash bag, grimacing. "I have a newfound respect for grunkle Stan."

"Hey. He, at least, took his car. He was homeless in style." Mabel wrinkles her nose. "Can you take mine?"

"Mabel, they're trash bags. There's literally no difference in the level of suck."

"I beg to differ, Dippingsauce. There's spoiled milk in this one."

"Ulgh. Fine." He violently shoved his over. "But only because my brotherly ego demands it."

Mabel took it with a smirk. "I was counting on it."

They stumble into Gravity Falls the next day, clothes in tatters. Dipper's nose was numb to their own stench, but he didn't doubt it was there.

"Where to?" He asked wearily. "The Shack is the first place they'd look."

"McGucket's mansion?"

The both hesitate. The old man had truly been given a bad lot in life, and they'd both feel like trash on the side of the road if they ruined the happiest days of his life. No, worse than that; they just _were_ trash on the side of the road. They could at least live with that.

"Wait." Mabel grabs his shoulder. "I've got a better idea."

The irony of the fact that Wendy was the only Corduroy child to not leave Gravity Falls hadn't been lost on anyone. Her brothers had chosen the lives of wrestling, football, and fishing, respectively, while she had stepped up to take up Manly Dan's work; he had gratefully retired to easier things; like starting the odd fight, and maybe filling in for a security guard here and there.

Either way, she'd built herself a cabin at the very edge of the town; something nice and secluded. The perfect place to ask for a change of clothes and maybe the use of her hose.

"You think she'll even let us in?" He asks as they hovered by the front door. "Wendy's got a big heart, but we _did_ just sleep in an alleyway last night. We're not exactly presentable."

"Only one way to find out!" Mabel chirps in a slightly disbelieving tone. She steps up and knocks at the door with a sense of purpose.

Wendy yanks it open a few moments later, blinking down at them. "What in the-"

By 'blinking down', Dipper means that literally, and not in the snobbish sense. His sister, easily the tallest between the two of them, only went up to her chin. Dipper wondered if he should feel ashamed that her shoulders were wider than his, then soothed it over with the reminder that she'd spent her entire life chopping down trees, while he was more of the hacker type.

She leaned against the door frame, crossing muscled arms. Despite having beefy arms- and probably legs-, he was mildly relieved to see she still had a belly of pudge from the diet of a busy working woman. She has very comfy hugs, is all. Dipper would hate for her to suddenly be hard all over. (It's her body, of course, and therefore her choice, but still.) "What did you two do?"

"Something very stupid and probably illegal." Dipper promises.

"We can't help it if we have the decision-making capabilities of worms." Mabel argues, punching his arm. "We're filled with anger and hormones!"

"Oy vey." Wendy rubs the bridge of her nose. "Get _in_ here."

The woman pulls them both in by the shoulder, not so much as blinking at the smell. "You're taking a shower. Both of you."

"Dipper first. He's got that male sweat thing going on. Also, he slept on spoiled milk."

"I didn't need to know that."

"As much as I'd like to, that's not very gentlemanly."

"And you're not a gentleman." She sticks her tongue out.

"Hey, now. At least I'm trying. Your charms have seriously been lacking lately, lady Mabes."

A strong hand shook both of them in turn. "Either choose who's going first or I'll throw both of you in there with some blindfolds."

Mabel holds out a fist for rock, paper, scissors. He accepts the challenge, pitting his usual rock against her usual scissors, then switching it to paper halfway down. She gives him a toothy grin before disappearing up the stairs, knowing full well he'd let her win. This was far from their first visit, although it was their first use of her shower.

"Good." Wendy breathes out, leading him to the dining area. "And you're gonna tell me what you're doing here in the middle of spring while you wait."

"Early visit?" He offers, feeling like he's being led by the earlobe rather than the shoulder, metaphorically speaking.

"As much as I'd like that, not plausible."

"Uh, nice... table?" He ran a finger over the sturdy surface, watching as the older woman sat down and put her boots up.

"Thanks. I built it. Now, stop stalling and give me the sob story."

He places his dirty elbows on the table and presses his chin into his hands. "We... might have run away from home? That might be something we've done. Maybe."

For a moment, the notion of throttling him seems to be on her mind. Then, she relaxes. "Why?"

"Stupid reasons. In hindsight, it really doesn't make any sense. Teenagers make rash decisions, you know?"

"Normal teenagers, yeah." Wendy plants her arms on the table and leans forward. Her boots clunk dully on the wood floor. "But not you guys."

"Wendy?" Mabel calls from the other room. Dipper hears the shower water be cut off. "What do I do with my clothes?"

"Dump 'em in the basket. You can borrow some of mine."

There was a pregnant pause. "Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"What if they don't fit?"

"Oh, please, Mabel. You're not _that_ much smaller than me. There's a belt on my dresser, but you're not gonna need it. Everything's drawstring."

The sound of footsteps pitter-pattering brought them back to the conversation at hand. "Look, Dipper. You two being here could potentially bring cops to my door. And not even of the Blubs and Durland variety, either; I could bribe them with some tea. I- at least- deserve to know the _reason_."

Dipper draws imaginary pictures in the grain. "They were gonna send us to military school. _Different_ military schools."

"Ah." Dawning realization lit up her voice.

"Hey, Wendy?" Mabel, once again. "Do you have anything against tattoos? Or piercings?"

"That depends. Didja get 'em legally? Because don't tell me if you didn't."

"Well..."

"Say no more. Get your butt out here."

Mabel tip-toes out in an oversized pair of boxers and white undershirt, scratching at her shooting star. Her nose and belly ring were in place, things she never really wore at home.

"You're rocking that Stan look, Mabel." Wendy tells her, smug.

Wide-eyed, she looked herself over. "Holy crap. I totally _do_ look like Stan."

"It's a slippery slope, Mabes." Dipper says seriously, pulling a chair out for her. "Next thing you know, you'll be running a tourist trap in the middle of the woods."

"Eh. It's a living." She slumps into the open seat, pushing him out of his. "Your turn, bro-bro."

Dipper was relived to see Wendy carried both male and female brand deodorant, and picked accordingly. It wasn't very surprising, when he thought about it; she'd always balanced between masculine and feminine, and he could see her preferring one over the other on any given day.

Nabbing a sweatshirt and baggy shorts for himself, Dipper returned to find Mabel sitting alone, and the smell of cooking from the kitchen.

His stomach growled. "Dude, food?"

"Food." Mabel agrees.

The front door hesitantly creeks open. "Hey, Wendy? Oh, man. Is that pancakes I smell?"

His sister suddenly remembers her lack of dress, and crosses her arms self-consciously. He doesn't really understand- seeing how she doesn't really have anything to hide there; she's fairly flat by nature- but doesn't comment.

Soos confidently strolls into the room, pausing only momentarily when he spots them. "Hey, dudes. What's up?"

"Hey, Soos." Dipper greets, feeling vaguely offended. "Did Wendy call you?"

Said woman trots into the room, frying pan in hand. "Nah, man. I think the smell of burnt food a' la lumberjack brought him to my door."

"I did miss breakfast." Soos patted his belly sheepishly. "Got any extra room?"

"For a friend? Always."

"Thanks."

Wendy pulls her flannel coat off to drape it over Mabel's shoulders. "Here. By the way, you're getting jobs. No free rides in this cabin."

"We can stay?"

Her eyes darted to the older man. "I'm guessing that's what Mr. Mystery is here to tell us."

"Hey. I can't help it if the Shack is the only number they have." Soos shrugs. "Your folks thought you might come here."

Dipper found himself bristling. "They're not mad?"

"Hurt, more like it." His brow furrows. "They hope you staying here might help you sort some junk out."

"So... that's it? They just let us go?"

"Well, I had to convince them a bit first. I figured there had to be a reason you came all this way, you know?"

He leaned across the table to punch Soos's shoulder. "Thanks, man. You guys are the best."

"Yeah, yeah." Wendy, hums, already halfway to the kitchen. "Just don't think you're getting out of school because of this. Or work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now introduce you to Teen!Delinquent AU Wendy. My pal and I call her Squishy Wendy.
> 
> Here's some fun facts.
> 
> -Non binary that goes by she/her pronouns.
> 
> -Often houses Thompson, who circles between her house and Tambry's (whom Robbie lives with), as well as three odd jobs. He refuses to live in his mother's basement.
> 
> -Main medicine hut of Gravity Falls. Human, magical creature, etc, can come to her for medicine kits.
> 
> -Destined to die via an axe to the chest after falling out of a tree, much like her ancestor before her, who fell on his own axe, but that isn't going to happen for many years yet.
> 
> Alright, guys, same rules apply, as usual; if I'm misrepresenting something here, by all means smack me upside the head. I'll listen. Everyone writes/draws skinny Wendy, who is beautiful and lovely, but I thought I'd give a not-so-skinny lumberjack a try. I love her just as much, if not more so.
> 
> I've got a job-hunting Teen!Delinquent AU idea in the works; not sure if I'll make it it's own oneshot, or just add it onto this one.


End file.
